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Updated: June 8, 2025
Miserrimus Dexter moved his chair a little closer to mine. "I know what will rouse me," he said, confidentially. "Exercise will do it. I have had no exercise lately. Wait a little, and you will see." He put his hands on the machinery of the chair, and started on his customary course down the room. Here again the ominous change in him showed itself under a new form.
The idea which Miserrimus Dexter had jestingly put into her head, in exhibiting her to us on the previous night, had been ripening slowly in that dull brain, and had found its way outward into words, about fifteen hours afterward, under the irritating influence of my presence! "I don't want to touch his hair or his beard," I said. "I leave that entirely to you."
I was too deeply interested in leading Miserrimus Dexter to pursue the subject on which he had touched to be willing to leave him at that moment. I pretended not to have heard Mrs. Macallan. I laid my hand, as if by accident, on the wheel-chair to keep him near me. "You showed me how highly you esteemed that poor lady in your evidence at the Trial," I said. "I believe, Mr.
One of the copies I inclosed in my letter to Mr. Playmore. The other I laid by me, on my bedside table, when I went to rest. Over and over again, through the long hours of the wakeful night, I read and re-read the last words which had dropped from Miserrimus Dexter's lips. Was it possible to interpret them to any useful purpose? At the very outset they seemed to set interpretation at defiance.
Can you tell me that?" He considered a little. "There is one man who must know where she is or who could find it out for you," he said. "Who is he? What is his name?" "He is a friend of Eustace's. Major Fitz-David." "I know him! I am going to dine with him next week. He has asked you to dine too." Miserrimus Dexter laughed contemptuously.
Ariel, silently devouring her cakes, crouched on a stool at "the Master's" feet, and looked up at him like a faithful dog. There was an interval of quiet and repose. I was able to observe Miserrimus Dexter uninterruptedly for the first time since I had entered the room. I was not surprised I was nothing less than alarmed by the change for the worse in him since we had last met. Mr.
Beauly was missing exactly at he time when Christina Ormsay had left Mrs. Eustace Macallan alone in her room. "You have hit it!" cried Miserrimus Dexter. "You are a wonderful woman! What was she doing on the morning of the day when Mrs. Eustace Macallan died poisoned? And where was she during the dark hours of the night? I can tell you where she was not she was not in her own room."
Beauly, first amused, then surprised him. It was not, however, until I had described my extraordinary interview with Miserrimus Dexter, and my hardly less remarkable conversation with Lady Clarinda, that I produced my greatest effect on the lawyer's mind. I saw him change color for the first time. He started, and muttered to himself, as if he had completely forgotten me. "Good God!"
Answer me honestly: can you bring yourself to do that, after what happened at Mr. Benjamin's house?" I had told her of my last interview with Miserrimus Dexter, in the natural confidence that she inspired in me as relative and fellow-traveler; and this was the use to which she turned her information! I suppose I had no right to blame her; I suppose the motive sanctioned everything.
"It is the face of an idiot, isn't it?" pursued Miserrimus Dexter! "Look at her! She is a mere vegetable. A cabbage in a garden has as much life and expression in it as that girl exhibits at the present moment. Would you believe there was latent intelligence, affection, pride, fidelity, in such a half-developed being as this?" I was really ashamed to answer him. Quite needlessly!
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